Gather ’round, children. It’s time to regale you with the story of how my husband and I came to be home owners…
It was a clear August day when I strode through the bank that I work at and in to the office of our mortgage representative and said, “Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to
the castle beyond the Goblin City The Bank to prove that I am credit worthy.”
He was, understandably completely baffled as to why the newly-promoted banker was in his office.
“I want to get pre-qualified to buy a house,” I said dryly.
He jumped in to action and pre-qualified us to purchase a house that cost approximately A Lot of Money.
After a relatively short search, we found The House. It was a 100 year old home in a quiet neighborhood. It was in the school district we preferred! It had a yard! It had a garage that looked like it was only mostly ready to fall down! It had A DISH WASHER.
We made our offer and it was accepted. I was envisioning Thanksgiving dinner in my new house. Possibly even Halloween! I mean, things were going so well!
And then they…didn’t.
Apparently there are three people in the state of Michigan who process the type of mortgage I was applying for. I really wish that was hyperbole. It’s not. There are THREE people to process ALL the loans. I approximate the number of loans in their queue to process at any given day to be at about 7 farttillion. (That may be hyperbole.)
So, Halloween came and went. Thanksgiving came and went. December first, my lender PROMISED me I would be in my house within a week. We signed the loan and got our keys on December 21st. (By this point I assumed he was a cleverly disguised Time Lord and had no idea how long a “week” was.)
I had waited so long for my dream house. Nothing was going to ruin this. I was going to have Christmas dinner in my house. I can get completely moved in to a house in 4 days, right? RIGHT. THIS WILL BE PERFECT.
And then a blizzard hit.
No. I can DO THIS. And it will be perfect.
We slogged through the snow, our poor minivan getting stuck in our own driveway more than once. (You’ve never really lived until you’ve had to be towed OUT of a driveway and then followed by a tow truck for 5 miles because they were 100% convinced they would be rescuing you out of a ditch again before you got to your destination.) But, I was going to get there so I could paint my house the perfect color palette I had been carrying around for at least 6 months.
I can still do this.
I ordered a couch and a beautiful stove for my new house and they were due to be delivered on the 23rd. I know what you’re thinking….it didn’t arrive on time, dashing my hopes of making Christmas dinner.
Ha! It got there on time! The couch was fine and the stove was ….broken. All dented up and battered. The beautiful double oven I special-ordered was a worthless hunk of metal in my kitchen. So, I raced to the appliance store and gave the salesman crazy eyes until he replaced my stove and offered free same-day delivery. I think he was afraid I was going to stuff him in the floor model of that nice French door fridge if he didn’t. He may have been right.
So, in four days, I painted almost every room in my house, bought and assembled a dining room set, had a conniption fit in the middle of Lowe’s to get a new stove, and unpacked EVERY SINGLE BOX. Everything was in order!
On Christmas day, we sat down with family for a huge turkey dinner. It had all the trimmings! It was perfect!
“Where did you put the Christmas tree?” asked someone.
So, I went to the kitchen and got a bottle of wine and a green pot holder. I put the pot holder on the bottle and slammed it in the middle of the table with a string of Mardi Gras beads hanging off the thumb.
“Tree,” I informed my guests. And then I gave them crazy eyes and glanced at my fridge.